


With Strings Attached

by DilynAliceBlake



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Multi, discord made me do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake
Summary: Getting drunk together to "celebrate" Ed's new girlfriend is as good an idea as any.  Maybe it'll even keep Oswald from snapping and killing the woman. (Now edited!)
Relationships: Isabella/Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Kudos: 18





	With Strings Attached

Edward has met someone. Oswald means to rage against it, perhaps talk Ed out of it or begin some violent plan for her removal. But less than an hour ago he was sure Ed was dead, or in the hands of one of his enemies and on his way to it. So what comes out of the Penguin's mouth is "We should celebrate.

Oswald has made a lot of brash decisions in his life, but "Tell me about her over drinks," might be the one most destructive to himself.

The world is spinning, but Ed remains still and clear, the point of focus in his life as he always is.

"I don't normally get drunk," Oswald tells him conspiritally. "It makes it hard. Um, harder to survive. 'S what I'm good at, surviving. I can survive this. Survived Jim."

Ed is squinting at him now, leaning forward with a cute little crinkle in his brow as if trying to decipher a particularly difficult riddle. The thought warms Oswald. Ed loves riddles. If he keeps talking maybe he'll be able to hold a little of that love on him. 

"Not that Jim and I were- No, he rejected me. I mean, not that you and I were- Obviously I thought we might- but clearly I was mistaken."

Oswald leans back, away from Ed's peering face and the temptation to demand an explanation, demand that if Oswald isn't good enough Ed at least say it out loud and finish the breaking of Oz's splintered heart.

He motions for another drink.

"You are not," Ed says slowly, one word at a time like each is a Herculean task to articulate "Using full sentences."

"You're smart. You can solve it," Oswald slurs miserably, because all the pieces of the puzzle are there. He isn't sure he wants to be Ed's puzzle any more- He's getting to the point where he'd like to just wallow alone in misery. Some higher power must hear him, because Ed's chair suddenly shrieks backwards and he's bounding out the room.

The next day Oswald is more concerned with his wretched hangover than anything he said last night. Ed has yet to reappear, and now that there's a chance he's with his new flame instead of here to bring him water and ask after his head, the absence grates. His blasted phone rings.

"Yes," he snaps.

"Oswald, I'm sober," he says, and there's a woman's voice in the background. "You said to establish that I was going into this clearheaded," Ed responds petulantly to whoever it is. More indecipherable muffles, and then "...I see. Yes, of course. Oswald, we'll be there soon."

The line goes dead, and the idea of meeting Ed's new girlfriend excaberates his nausea. Oswald ignores the part of him that insists he stay in bed. He didn't get where he is today by avoiding difficult, painful things.

Oswald dons a suit like armor and styles his hair carefully, then ruffles it out of spite. Ed is taken, and he suddenly has no one to impress. He restyles it anyway, because he has an image to uphold- that of someone who isn't crumbling at the seams over his best friend finding someone.

"I'm happy for him," he reminds his reflection sternly, and then Ed is yelling his arrival into the house.

Isabella is a veritable photo copy of the woman in Ed's arkham file, but she is not where Oswald's gaze jumps to first. Ed is standing there in yesterday's clothes, jittering in place, hair puffed and curling like he's been through an impromptu hurricane. There are notes in green ink all over both his arms- Two different handwritings, but based on the riddles and encoding mixed throughout, both clearly his work.

Biggest among the scrawl he had made below his pushed up sleeves was, as inexplicable as the rest, the letter V traced over multiple times.

Isabella sees his gaze and quirks a smile. "I did give him some paper," she tells him conspiritally, "but you know how he can be when he's focused."

The familiarity irks, but whatever has Ed so manic, he's clearly on the verge of bursting with it.

Oswald makes an impatient gesture, and Ed lights with an ecstatic smile. He's a mess, but Oswald's heart still skips a beat.

"Oswald, in all the time you've known me, have I ever failed to find a solution?" he asks, and before Oswald can even open his mouth, Ed begins bouncing on his toes and the words he's been holding back spill out.

"I'll date you both. The emotional aspect is already there, you won't have to date each other, but we could-" 

Here he juts his arm out, and Oswald notices that he has labelled himself as the hingepoint on the V, and he and Isabella each end one of the apparent diagram's branches.

One great love, his mother always said, but "When you find it, run to it," rings louder. It's everything he wants, in exactly they way Gotham always delivers- with strings. 

"Yes," he says, because he'd sign away his soul in a deal with the devil for this. Ed tastes like stale alcohol and womens' lipgloss when he kisses him.


End file.
